


Spuffy vs. Scarecrow

by sunalso



Series: Versus-verse [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: Burkitsville has the world's best apple pie. Probably for completely innocent reasons. Spike and Buffy just need a tank of gas and they'll be back on the highway, so why is this Dean guy bothering them? Sequel to Spuffy vs. Evil Dead. Crossover with SPN S1E11. Set October 2016, so not compliant with SPN timeline. Post series established relationship for Spike/Buffy. A little Birthday request from my amazing Beta: Gort. Beta’d by Flootzavut, -Carrie-Ann-, and Punkflame.





	1. Classic Rock Fan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read SvED, the main conceit here is that Buffy and Spike are in a long term relationship. They work for the New Watcher's Council, crisscrossing the country and fighting the forces of darkness. They also eat a lot of pie. In this installment they're engaged and working their way to California for a Christmas time wedding.

That's why they call me

          -Bad Company, “Bad Company”

****

_October 30, 2016_

“Even though there wasn’t a sign, I might have to concede a point to the ‘World’s Best Pie’ tally.” Buffy shoved another spoonful of scrumptious apple pie into her mouth. And bonus! It’d been free!

Spike was still poking at his with a fork. “I don’t get why they can’t have something besides apple pie,” he grumbled. “I’m sure it’s good, but usually I judge based on pumpkin. And since it’s October you’d think they’d have pumpkin.”

“Stop whining and eat your pie.” Buffy pulled her phone out of her pocket to check and see if anyone had liked the Facebook photo of the pie she’d posted before taking a bite. Only Xander had so far. She sighed and set the iPhone next to her plate.

“I am not whining.” Spike speared a piece of apple out of the filling and at looked at it critically.

“You're complaining about free pie. Same thing.”

The beaming proprietor of Scotty’s Café, Scotty himself—she’d asked—set down two steaming mugs of rich black coffee in front of them. “Everything going okay over here?”

“Dandy,” Spike drawled.

“This is really good pie!” Buffy said while kicking Spike under the table. He narrowed his eyes at her and dropped the fork with the apple onto his plate.

“It’s what Burkitsville is famous for!” Scotty looked pleased as punch. “Our orchard has been our pride and joy for generations. So, where are you folks headed so close to Halloween?”

“Where working our way to Los Angeles, but we’ve got a few pit stops before then.” Buffy ate another mouthful apple pie. 

“You two married?”

Buffy lit up. “Engaged!” She stuck out the hand with her ring on it for inspection. Spike’s face lost its cynical look and became filled with love and pride. He hid his smile behind a big swallow of coffee.

Scotty looked appropriately appreciative at the ring, but was quickly distracted as another patron walked in the café. Buffy frowned at the newcomer. He was youngish and handsome in a very symmetrical, American kind of way.

She glanced at Spike to find him glowering at her. Rolling her eyes, she scooped up some of the sticky pie filling with her fork and licked it off the tines with the tip of her tongue. Now Spike was glaring at the new guy. It appeared her little show, meant for her fiancé, hadn’t gone completely unnoticed by the newcomer, who’d taken a table near their own even though there wasn’t anyone else in the café.

“Damn it,” she muttered and mentally inventoried what scarfs she had with her, because there was no way she was going to get out of being bit when they found a hotel to spend the day in. Not that she minded the growly, fangy, possessive part, but trying to coordinate outfits and scarves could be a royal pain.

The newcomer had asked for coffee and pie, and a less than enthusiastic Scotty had disappeared into the kitchen

“So.” The guy leaned towards her and Spike. “How ya’ doing? Just passing through?”

“Road trip,” Buffy said, eyeing the way the guy seemed to have the perfect amount of stubble on his strong chin and cheeks without it making him look like a bum.  

Spike growled under his breath.

The guy smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

Scotty came back over with the coffee pot and freshened up their mugs. “I’m sure these people want to eat in peace,” he said to the newcomer.

The guy shrugged. “Just a little friendly conversation.”

Buffy met Spike’s eyes. There was something off about the whole exchange. Scotty frowned and went back to his till.

The guy wasn’t giving up. “So what brings you to town?”

“We just stopped for gas-“ Buffy started.

“What’s your name, mate?” Spike reached out and idly ran his finger down her arm. He got to her wrist and stroked it in the pattern that was their secret code for ‘hunter’.

Buffy stiffened. While Spike and she basically did the same job for Giles, other hunters tended to be a problem because they usually tried to take Spike’s head off without asking questions first. It was annoying.

The guy gave them a friendly smile. “Jon Bonham.”

Spike huffed and raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?”

The guy’s smile faltered a bit. “Wow. Good. Classic Rock fan.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. Fake name. He might be cute, but the dude was totally a hunter.

“You know what, just call me Dean. So what about you two?”

“Buffy and Spike,” she said around a sip of coffee.

Dean looked taken aback. “Really? Did you guys lose a bet?”

Spike mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘sod off’ to her. She kicked him under the table, again, just in case.

“So, it’s right after sunset, you guys planning on staying here for the night?” Dean asked. Scotty was looking daggers at the guy and still hadn’t brought him so much as a coffee. This was starting to get really weird.

“No, we’re going to push on.” Spike sat back and crossed his arms.

“Well, um…” Dean darted his eyes to her. “Y’know, it’s just these roads. They’re not real safe at night.”

Huh? Buffy couldn’t figure it out. Was this guy trying to warn them not to drive after dark? More likely he was attempting to get them to stay in the local hotel so he would know where they were and could dust Spike. So not cool. “Look, we're trying to eat here,” she said, looking down at her plate and stabbing a stray apple that was making an escape from the side of her piece of pie.

Spike took a drink of his coffee and set the mug down hard.

“I know it sounds strange, but-uh, you might be in danger.” Dean put his warm hand over hers before Buffy could move hers away.

Spike exploded out of his chair. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and hauled him upright. The guy looked terrified. Almost casually, Spike spun Dean around and bent his arm up just far enough to really hurt, but not break.

Buffy calmly took another bite of pie. The guy really was old enough to know that you should keep your hands to yourself.

Forcing Dean to bend over, Spike hissed in his ear: “That’s my…my girl. Touch her again and you’ll lose whatever you do it with, understand?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, pain etched on his face. Spike let go and pushed him away. “Dude, you’ve got to work out, because you’re damn strong for being so wiry.” Dean rubbed his wrist. “You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.”

“Oh, trust me,” Buffy sighed. “I’m way, way over the puppy dog look.”

Scotty hadn’t moved from behind the counter, in fact he barely seemed to have even noticed the altercation. The bell over the door jingled. “Thanks for coming, Sheriff,” Scotty drawled.

In a blink of an eye the Sheriff was dragging Dean out of the diner, presumably to be run out of town. The hunter mumbled something about having a bad day on the way out.

“Sorry, folks,” Scotty smiled at them.

“No worries.” Spike pulled out a crisp ten-dollar bill and left it on the table. “Some people just weren’t raised proper. It’s good to know nice folks like you lot are still around.”

Scotty beamed at them. “You want me to pack you up a pie to take with you?”

“Thank you, but no, we’re good.” Buffy took Spike’s hand.

“Well, if you’re sure. You guys have a good trip now, you hear?” Scotty nodded at them as they walked out into the brisk night air. Grinning jack-o- lanterns with flickering candles cheerfully gleamed at them from every porch. The red mustang waited for them at the town’s modest gas pumps, a few orange and brown leaves caught up against its tires.

They walked past the mouth of a narrow alley and Buffy abruptly found herself smashed up against the wooden siding of one of the town’s mid-century buildings. Spike was using his whole body to pin her there in the shadows.

Blunt teeth closed over where her pulse beat in her throat.

“Shhhh,” she ran a hand over his leather clad back. “It was nothing,” Buffy soothed.

“He touched you,” Spike whined against her skin.

“The dumbass had no idea. For a hunter he was kind of dim. Should we get back on the road?”

“Not yet.” Spike sagged against her. His hand slipped down to knead her backside and his mouth landed on hers. She mewled happily, threading her fingers into his hair. When she was breathless he broke the kiss and led her to the car. “I vote we stay in a real hotel tonight,” he whispered, voice as warm as honey.

“I can get behind that plan.”

Spike unlocked the car and they got in. The owner of the gas station had not only filled the car, but managed to get most of the bugs off the windshield. That was a minor miracle. Yummy pie and good service. Burkitsville really had a lot going for it.

Revving the engine, Spike took off into the darkness of the autumn night. Buffy rubbed her thighs together before stealing a glance at her vampire. He was smirking at her. She hoped the next half-way decent hotel wasn’t too many miles down the road.


	2. How About Them Apples?

Things got bad and things got worse

            -Creedence Clearwater Revival, “Lodi”

****

“No, no, no, bloody hell, no!” Spike yelled.

“You done?” Buffy asked, unimpressed.

“Arrrggghh!” He jammed his feet against the mustang’s floorboard and clutched the steering wheel nearly tight enough to break it. His body lifted off the seat before crashing limply back down.

“Now?”

“Yeah, okay, now.”

Buffy sighed. Sometimes it felt more like she was the parent of a cranky two-year old instead of the claimed mate and almost-wife of a century and a half old vampire. Not that she was thrilled that the mustang had shuddered to a halt on some no-name backroad a couple miles outside of Burkitsville.

Spike popped the hood and got out, cursing under his breath. She followed suit, pulling her jacket tighter around her to keep out the chilly autumn air.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Buffy gasped. “Spike,” she said, voice wavering.

“What?” he asked from under the hood of the car.

“This is terrible!”

He was instantly beside her, arm around her shoulders. “Something wrong?”

“There’s no cell service!” she wailed.

“Oh for…” Spike kissed her cheek and went back to poking at the mustang’s engine. He vamped out to see better in the dark.

Buffy frowned, looking down the road as she put her useless phone away. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Your face! What if that hunter did something to the car!”

“Luv, there’s no one anywhere near us and I need to see so I can figure out what’s wrong.”

Buffy huffed. Drat him and his logic. She kicked at piles of dead leaves as she paced along the edge of the dirt road. To her left there was a wrought iron fence of some kind. Squinting she worked out what the letters at the top said: ‘Burkitsville Orchard’.

Hey, cool! This must be where the apples for the pies came from. There were ladders and baskets scattered around. A few paces into the orchard was a line of wooden half-barrels with apples peeking from the top. Buffy happily grabbed one and took a bite. It was delicious.

“Buffy?” Spike’s worried voice filtered through the trees. She could feel the tug of the claim. Quickly she made her way back to the road. It was too bad the claim didn’t give them telepathy. It’d be handy for things like when you needed another roll of toilet paper. It didn’t even let them feel each other’s emotions. There were a few perks, like not aging for her and immunity to wood for him, as well as a general GPS tracker of sorts. Mostly it was symbolic. He was her vampire and she was his Slayer.

“Sorry, apple.” She held up her prize. “It’s the town’s orchard.”

“Huh, do you think there’s a town pumpkin patch?” Spike asked. He growled at something under the car’s hood and Buffy smiled as she took another bite of the crisp apple. That was Spike. If something didn’t want to work, threaten it.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to scare the engine into being fixed.” She tossed away the apple core.

“Well, do you have a better idea?” He slammed the hood closed and glared at the car.

“Actually, yeah. I think I saw a house on the far side of the orchard. Just there.” She pointed at the twinkling lights she could barely see through the trees. Spike tilled his head, then nodded. “So we go and ask to make a call and get the mustang hauled back to Burkitsville.”

“Right. Well, pet, you fancy a walk with yours truly through a mist filled apple orchard in the dark?” He held his hand out to her and she took it, intertwining her fingers with his.

“Sounds delightful.” She snuggled against him and his demonic features melted away.

Hand in hand they walked among the trees. The place looked old, like the trees had been there forever. Their trunks were twisted and gnarled. Compared to all the graveyards she’d had to patrol in her life, it was actually kind of nice.

“I keep thinking of those apple trees in the Wizard of Oz,” Spike said.

“Well, don’t pick any and we’ll be fine, and hey, you might not be far off, because, look, there’s the scarecrow!” She pointed to a grotesque figure wearing a floppy hat, with bits of moldy straw poking out of it here and there through its tattered clothes. The thing was trussed up on a pole with its arms wrapped backwards around a crossbeam. Its face was lost in shadow under the brim of the hat.

“Eh,” Spike grimaced at the ugly thing. “I’ve seen better. Sort of smells funny, too. I think it’s been left out through one too many rainstorms and started to rot.”

“Party pooper. So are you the tin man?” she patted his chest as they resumed walking

“Just because it doesn’t beat doesn’t mean it’s not there,” he grumbled.

Buffy felt a little bad. She, of all people, was well aware of that. “Hey, I know. I was just being silly. Do I get to be Dorothy?”

“More like the wicked witch.” He side-eyed her and Buffy snorted.

“In that case you can be one of my flying monkeys.” She pulled out of his grasp before he could respond and ran ahead of him.

“Oi! Get back here! I think you need to be taught a few manners!”

“And you’re just the flying monkey to do it?” She giggled, then yelped as Spike grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. His mouth crashed into hers and his hands clutched at her behind as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Abruptly she froze as her Slayer senses went haywire. Spike dropped her to her feet and they both looked up at the horrific visage of the orchard’s scarecrow as it loomed over them.

“Run,” Spike barked as the monster brought its sickle down in a deadly arc.  Buffy dodged the blow and took off like a shot with Spike on her heels. The branches of the trees scratched at their faces and arms. She had no idea which way she was headed as she ducked and darted through the mist filled orchard. No matter how fast they ran the stupid scarecrow always seemed to be right behind them.

“Running’s not working,” she groused. “Fight?”

Spike snarled in response and turned in unison with her, fists raised.

A shotgun blast rang out and hit the scarecrow, making it falter.

“C’mon, the cars are this way!” a voice yelled. It was the hunter from the diner.

The already recovered scarecrow was raising its sickle, the razor sharp edge gleaming in the moonlight. For a lack of any better options, Spike and she ran in the direction Dean was pointing. Face set, the hunter fired the shotgun again before high tailing after them.

At last, they burst out of the trees and onto the road. There was a second, older monstrosity of a car parked behind the mustang.

Dean was bent over and panting hard.

In between the apple trees the scarecrow was visible for a second before disappearing back into the heavy fog.

“What do you know about this?” Buffy said, crossing her arms and glaring at Dean.

“Not a whole hell of a lot.” Dean straightened up. “Are you two some kind of exercise freaks? You’re not even winded.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Icky scarecrow trying to kill us? Ring any bells? What do you know?”

“Every year a couple goes missing around Burkitsville, a guy and a girl. I’m thinking it has something to do with that…whatever it was.” Dean pointed a finger towards the orchard.

“Ya think?” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Look,” Dean put his hands on both of her shoulders. Buffy stiffened. “You two aren’t saf-“

Dean was cut off as he was hurled into the side of his car. “I said not to touch her!” Spike was vamped out, his hands curled into clawed fists.

“Jesus Christ!” Dean barked. “You’re a vampire!” he needlessly added.

“And you’re a hunter,” Buffy said as she put an arm around Spike’s waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re not going to bite him, so put the fangs away,” she whispered to Spike.

He pouted. “I am going to bite you.”

Buffy ignored the stab of lust. “I know.” She snuggled against him. “Soon, okay?”

Spike’s face slipped back into its human mask.

“You too?” Dean was looking at her, obviously bewildered.

“Me, what? Oh, no, I’m not a vampire. I’m a Slayer.”

Dean looked aghast. “A Vampire Slayer?” He overemphasized the middle world. Buffy nodded. “Uh,” he glanced at Spike. “You missed one.”

She smiled. “It’s a long story, that we don’t have time for. How about we go our separate ways? Spike’s been off human blood for a long time, and I really don’t like beating up humans for trying to behead my fiancé.”

“Little problem with that,” Spike said. Ignoring Dean, he turned and tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind Buffy’s ear. “Car’s still messed up.”

Dean perked up. “I know a thing or two about engines, more classic that modern.” He patted the hood of the old Chevy parked behind the mustang. “What seems to be the trouble?”

Spike shrugged. “I’m with you on that one. Nice girl you got there.” He jerked his chin towards the Chevy and Dean positively beamed. Buffy rolled her eyes. Hopefully, they wouldn’t spend the next hour on the side of the road while the boys swapped car stories. It was getting kind of cold.

“With this one here…” Spike ran a hand over his hair and turned his attention back to the mustang. “She just stopped. I couldn’t see anything obvious with the engine, and it wasn’t an overheat.”

“I bet it’s something with the fuses, probably meant to burn out and strand you right here.” Dean followed them as they walked to the mustang. Spike opened the driver’s side door and sat down, pulling out the fuse box.

“Well, well, well.” Spike yanked out the blown fuse. “Luckily, I got a few spares.” From below the seat he took out a box of electrical parts and sorted through it.

“Thanks!” Buffy said to Dean. “You might want to take off. Hopefully we’ll see each other exactly never again.”

“I’m cool with that.” He nodded at her and jogged back to his car. Starting it he roared past the mustang with Kansas’ ‘Carry on My Wayward Son’ blaring from the radio.

“Got it,” Spike grunted and the mustang purred back to life. 

Buffy sat down in the passenger seat and fondly patted the car’s dashboard.

“There’s no way that sod’s going to just drive off and leave this whole scarecrow mystery hanging, is there?” Spike said in a resigned tone.

“No, probably not. Us either.”

“That’s what I thought.” Spike heaved a sigh. “Goody.”


	3. Who Doesn't Like Pie?

Yes, I think it’s true

                -Colepitz, Puppet

****

_October 31, 2016_

Buffy stood in front of a full length mirror. Behind her the rumpled hotel bed looked empty, but she knew a naked Spike was propped against the headboard, watching her.

She held up two silk scarves, which were occasionally used for things besides covering up bite marks. “Yellow or pink?” she asked.  She had a black sweater on over a black camisole, jeans, and pair of stylish boots.

“Pink.”

“Did you even look?” she pouted.

“Far as you know.”

She wrapped the pink silk around her neck, double checking to make sure the fang marks weren’t visible. Though it was Halloween, so she could always pass the punctures off as a costume. They were a little harder to explain on Thanksgiving. One look and Xander had dropped the peas, which was okay because she didn’t like peas, and not okay because, like duh, he should have been more understanding.

Buffy put her hair up into a loose bun and went to sit beside her vampire. He was flipping through a back issue of Reader’s Digest. Probably looking for the jokes.

“You be careful with my baby,” he said, running a finger down her cheek.

“I promise I’ll get her back to you in one piece.” Buffy rolled her eyes. He’d be going over every inch of the mustang with a fine toothed comb when she got back. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a repeat of the terrible door ding incident of ’14, which had really not been her fault.

“You, too, luv.” His finger ran over her lips.

“Me, too. I’m just going to the closest college. Giles said this Professor guy can help with local legends and stuff. Should let us know what we’re up against.”

Spike’s bright blue eyes searched hers. “I know. I just…I can’t stop hating when you go somewhere I can’t follow.”

She leaned against him, burying her nose against the base of his throat as his hands settled on her hips. His fingers stroked up under her shirt, teasing the skin right above the waistband of her jeans. Goosebumps erupted and streaked up her spine.

“I’ll text when I get there, and I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“Promise?” he whispered against the top of her head.

“Promise, and if you actually sleep instead of watching daytime T.V. like a bored housewife, it’ll seem that much quicker.”

“Why you…” Spike’s hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a fierce kiss. Once she was panting he let her go. Smirking, he laid down and pulled the sheet up. “Hurry back now, pet.”

“Oh-“ she sputtered, then pinched his sheet covered ass, making him jump, before heading out into the late morning sun.

Her consternation fell away as she adjusted the mustang’s seat to her needs. Her eyes flicked briefly back to the door to their motel room, then she gunned the engine and squealed the tires as she roared out of the parking lot.

Her cell phone instantly buzzed with an incoming text message. She ignored it and sped down the highway.

****

The college was generic. Pretty buildings with very square open spaces. Even the people looked like they all came from central casting.

 Buffy parked as far away from any other cars in the visitor’s lot as she could. With a little trepidation she finally looked at the text from Spike.

 **"Seriously?"**  

Okay, that wasn't so bad, especially not after she'd laid down rubber in the motel's parking lot. It'd just been too tempting and she never got to drive. 

 **I’m here!** She replied, adding a smiley face and a heart before pushing ‘send’. A second later she got a heart back and a kissy face. Awww. She smiled goofily at her phone.

There was also a text from Angel. Wonderful. He went on and on about a kind of rare demon and then wandered into something about a new restaurant he wanted to check out because it supposedly served rattlesnake. It sounded like he’d gotten plastered and randomly decided she’d want to hear all of his drunken ramblings. Again.

Ever since Buffy had sent him a wedding invitation, he’d been texting and calling about any lame excuse he could come up with. It was getting old. She wasn’t cookie dough anymore. Heck, she wasn’t even cookies any more. At this point she was more of an entire cake. A chocolate one with pink flowers on top. Her stomach growled.

Buffy hit ‘delete’ and looked up just in time to avoid stumbling into Dean. The hunter was standing in her path, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Really, how did he manage to look like he had the perfect five o’clock shadow at ten in the morning? Only it wasn’t quite that much. More like a four thirty shadow.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Probably the same thing you are, trying to find out about local history.” She breezed past him, then turned when he didn’t budge. “You going to just stand there?”

He huffed, but dutifully trailed behind her.

“Did you call someone last night to find out about us?” she asked casually.

Dean looked slightly uncomfortable. “Uh, maybe.”

“And this person said…”

“Well, he cussed me out. Then told me that all I needed to know was to stay as far away from you as I could.” Dean shrugged.

“I take it you don’t listen very well.” She pushed her way into the library, which was festively decorated with cut-outs of ghosts, black cats, and pumpkins. Fake spider webs clung to every exposed surface and an unlit jack-o’-lantern sat on the circulation desk.

“Not as a rule.”

"What a surprise," she deadpanned before giving a started yelp as Dean grabbed her arm and dragged her under one of the spiral wrought iron staircases. She was so astonished that she didn’t even think to pull away. 

“I can help you,” he hissed.

Buffy was completely confused. Dean look so earnest. “You can help me what?” she asked while brushing a stray fake-cobweb out of the way.

In answer he reached out and pulled the scarf off her neck. “I don’t know what that guy’s told you, but…Jesus, you’re letting him bite you! You’re not safe. I can help you. We can leave, right now, he’ll have to wait until dark to come and get the car. I have places I can take you where you’ll be safe.”

Buffy blinked and then she started laughing. Dean looked nonplussed, but she couldn’t stop.

He crossed his arms and sighed. “I guess my knight in shining armor routine didn’t cut it?”

Buffy wiped her eyes. “You’re a nice guy. You’re even kind of good looking in a tall and…I don’t know, clean-cut kind of way. But you’re so far of the mark you’re not even in the same universe as reality. I’ve been with Spike for the better part of two decades. This mark-“ She raised her hand and pressed two fingers against the punctures on her neck, which made her gasp slightly as images and sensations of exquisite pleasure from the night before tumbled through her mind. “It’s not from him feeding on me. It’s a claim mark. He’s got one from me on his shoulder. He really is my fiancé. We’ve been more or less married for ten years, we figured it was time to make it official, plus my sister has been reminding me that she’s not getting any younger.”

Dean’s gaze had stayed fixed on her face, well except for a quick downward glance when she’d gasped, and now his lips were pursed. “Right, so say I believe you, now what?”

“Now we research.”

Dean didn’t move. “Younger or older?”

“My sister? Younger.” She narrowed her eyes. “She doesn’t look a thing like me. Way taller and darker haired.”

To her surprise, Dean smiled. “’Isn’t that the worst? My younger brother, Sam, who I wish you could meet, is the same way. He just started shooting up one year and before I knew it, I had to look up in order to yell at him. It was embarrassing.”

“Is he smart?”

“Sharp as a tack.”

“Dawn too. I had to settle for looking cute.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

Shaking her head, Buffy retied her scarf and led him out from under the stairs and towards the back of the library where the professor she was supposed to meet was waiting for them. The guy looked and sounded like he’d smoked far too many off brand cigarettes in his life.

With a flourish the professor opened an old book and explained a few myths from where the ancestors of the people of Burkitsville had come from in Scandinavia. Dean asked a few awkward questions that made Buffy groan.

When the professor excused himself for a moment to make a phone call, Buffy turned to Dean. “You seriously need to work on your cover. That guy thinks we’re crazy.”

“So what, if it gets the job done? And no, he doesn’t.”

Buffy sighed. He’d learn. Hopefully before someone tried to kill him. “I think we got enough. And totally not a God. I’d know.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You’ll have to tell me that story sometime.”

“It’s not a happy one. Anyway, it’s some kind of demon that’s just convinced some people it is a god. Whatever. I’m going to call my Watcher and see if he knows how to take it out. You coming?”

“Nah. I think I got a few more questions for the prof.” Dean quickly scribbled out a number for her on a scrap of paper. “That’s my cell. Let’s coordinate and take this thing out right after sundown.”

“Sounds like a plan. Make sure and have dinner first in case it takes us a while.” Buffy hesitated. “Maybe no pie,” she whispered.

Dean looked like he might cry.

“Or at least no apple pie,” she amended. “Do you like pumpkin? Spike adores it and was going on and on about the diner not having any.”

“He eats pie?”

Buffy scrunched up her nose. “Uh, yeah. Duh. Who doesn’t?”

“Um.” Dean scratched the back of his head. “I guess…nobody.”

“Like you, Spike’s not really very good at doing what he’s supposed to.” Buffy smiled wistfully. There was the faintest tug on the claim. Time to get home.

“Yeah, uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but your boyfriend sort of seems like a pain in the ass.”

“He is.” Buffy sighed. “But he’s my pain in the ass, and that makes all the difference in the world.”


	4. Trick or Treat

It's the way I play

-Bad Company, “Bad Company”

****

The mustang’s engine roared. Spike had been unable to find a single thing to get upset over when he’d inspected his baby the instant the sun went down. She’d almost swear that’d made him a little grouchy. Not that he hadn’t already been. The rest of the afternoon had been spent with both of them on their phones, talking to Dawn, Willow, and Giles about what she’d learned at the college.

The final consensus had been that the creature was some kind of demon that was linked to a tree and required human blood and flesh. The sacrifice of a male and female on Halloween was just random crap it’d probably come up with to seem more authentic. Whatever. There’d been so many calls that they’d only managed to sneak a quickie in while showering. Her fiancé had wanted more and had taken to snarling at the phone every time it rang. Not like she’d gotten enough, either. Spike wasn’t the only who was feeling frustrated, she just had more tact.

Plus, it was Halloween, when all good little (and not so good, and downright evil) demons stayed inside. Ugly tree-guy had obviously not gotten the memo.

Now, however, she was worried. Dean wasn’t answering his phone. Buffy tried again, but this time it went straight to voice mail without even ringing. She tapped her foot nervously against the floorboard.

“No luck?” Spike asked. She shook her head.

Rounding a corner, the mustang’s headlights fell on a tall man with longish dark hair who was walking along the side of the road. He turned around and stuck out his thumb. Who the heck would be hitching a ride towards Burkitsville?

“Pull over!” she said, excitedly tapping her hand against Spike’s shoulder.

“This isn’t exactly the time to picking up strays,” he grumbled, but did as she asked.

Buffy rolled her window down. “Are you Sam Winchester?” she asked the guy as he leaned down to look in the car.

His eyes went wide. “Uh, yeah.”

“I knew it! We know your brother.” Buffy opened her door and hopped out, moving the seat so Sam could get in back.

“Have you tried calling him today?” Sam asked, eyeing the mustang’s cramped back seat.

She nodded. “He’s not picking up. We were supposed to meet him to take out this scarecrow demon-thingy, but I can’t reach him. We need to hurry.”

Sam eyed the mustang’s back seat again.

“The girl rides shotgun,” Spike said, his voice low.

“Uh, okay.” Sam folded himself into the tiny space and Spike pulled back onto the road. “So, are you guys hunters?”

Buffy turned around enough to see Sam. “Not exactly,” she said. “I’m Buffy and he’s Spike.” She jerked her thumb at her fiancé. 

Sam’s forehead wrinkled. “Did you two lose a bet?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Hopefully it has to be midnight or something for whatever ritual they need to do. There’s a magic tree we need to find and burn. That’s how you take this thing out. And don’t try to fight Straw-guy, let me and Spike deal with him.”

“Okay…” Sam trailed off.

“Don’t let her arm wrestle you, the chit’s stronger than she looks.” Spike slumped in his seat. The fingers of the hand he had on the steering wheel fidgeted in the way she knew meant he was jonesing for a nicotine hit. Oh great, another reason for her vampire to be cranky.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam said.

It wasn’t too long until they reached the Burkitsville Orchard. Cars were haphazardly parked around the entrance, including the old Chevy Dean drove. Sam’s face became a mask of worry when he saw it. There were burning torches leading back into the orchard, and grinning jack-o’-lanterns had been nestled in among the dead leaves and apple barrels. Once again, fog drifted among the trees.

Buffy grabbed her Scythe, earning an impressed look from Sam. Spike opted to leave his sword, saying the trees would keep him from getting a good swing.

The three of them hurried towards the sound of chanting. Stopping just out of sight of the good people of Burkitsville. Buffy was disappointed to see Scotty from the diner, as well as the nice man who’d filled up their tank. Only, he wasn’t really that nice, since he’d probably been the one to put the faulty fuse in. Damn it, she hated when people who seemed good turned out to be kind of evil.

Dean and a young girl Buffy didn’t recognize were tied to a pair of apple trees. Thankfully, they were still very much alive. Though probably not for much longer.

Spike was studying the scene with his head tilted. Abruptly, he turned to Sam and handed him a pocket knife pulled from his duster pocket. “Get your brother and the girl loose. She’s local, see if she knows what tree to burn.”

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked, gripping the knife tightly.

“I’m going to scare the locals and then me and the Slayer are going to occupy the big ugly creeping through the trees there.” Spike gestured towards a patch of orchard on the other side of the townsfolk, but she couldn’t make out where the scarecrow was.

“Scare them?” Sam asked, but Spike was already rushing the group. Buffy waited, Scythe in hand, while Spike, in full vamp face, leapt into the middle of the group of Burkitsville residents. They scattered, screaming. Spike grinned, obviously enjoying being the big bad. He was going to be insufferable later.

“Okay, now,” Buffy told Sam.

He didn’t budge. “Your boyfr…he…vampire?”

“Not the time!” Buffy cried. “Go save your brother!” She hefted the Scythe, rushing into the clearing as the Scarecrow, sickle raised, appeared out of the mist.

The monster slashed at Spike’s back, but Buffy blocked it with the Scythe. Spinning, Spike launched a punch at the Scarecrow’s leathery face which knocked it back.

Surprised, the creature began circling Buffy and Spike.

“Yeah, we’re on the not so normal list, too, buddy,” Buffy said as she turned to follow the Scarecrow’s movements. Spike snarled, fangs gleaming in the light from the torches. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dean shrug off the ropes that’d been holding him. Immediately, he knelt beside the girl.

Buffy hoped they’d go for the tree and not leave Spike and her hanging. Because that’d suck.

The Scarecrow launched another attack and she was hard-pressed to keep it at bay. Scythe and sickle met again and again, sparks flying. Spike got in punches where he could, but nothing was having much of an effect on the monster.

Sam, Dean, and the girl had disappeared.

"Y' know," Spike said, after he’d kicked the Scarecrow into the trunk of the tree. “I sort of think he’s wearing other people’s skin, or maybe entire body parts.”

“Eww.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I could have lived without knowing that, like, ever.”

Spike couldn’t reply as the monster had launched itself at him. The creature spun, more nimble than it looked, and Buffy barely managed to block a blow from its sickle which would have taken Spike’s head off.

Now Buffy was really mad. The air whistled as the Scythe sliced through it.“You don’t get to hurt him. I have a dress! Shoes! We’re getting married!” She caught the Scarecrow on the shoulder and sent it hurtling into the trunk of a tree.

The creature started to get up and Buffy, panting, adjusted her grip. Fists clenched, Spike stood shoulder to shoulder with her.

There was a whoosh and the monster burst into flames. It made a high pitched noise as it burned and both Buffy and Spike had to turn away. The clutched at each other, not letting go until the night dimmed once more.

Hand in hand, Spike’s human mask back in place, they followed the scent of burning apple wood to where Sam, Dean, and the girl were standing beside an ancient looking tree that was gradually turning to ash.

Silently they filed out of the orchard. The other cars were gone, the people of Burkitsville having fled.

Dean was talking earnestly to the girl, figuring out where she could go.

Sam walked over to where Spike and Buffy were leaning against the mustang. “So, um, we’re going to take Emily to the bus station, then do you want to meet at the all night place in the next town over? Talk about things before we go our separate ways?”

Spike shrugged.

“Yeah, we can do that.” Buffy nudged Spike with her elbow.

“Right, see you in a few.”

****

The diner was nothing like Scotty’s, thank goodness.

Buffy and Dean tucked into plates of breakfast food, while Sam nibbled at a salad and Spike had, finally, been able to get a slice of pumpkin pie. Dean had a slice waiting on him as well.

Conversation was stilted, no matter what Buffy tried. Dean looked exhausted and Sam couldn’t seem to get over Spike. He kept glancing at the vampire like Spike was going to say ‘screw it’ any second and launch himself over the table at the two humans.

Buffy sighed. Hunters. It’d been a bit much to think they’d all be best pals now.

When she was done she excused herself to go to the lady’s room. Having taken care of things she paused in the doorway, eavesdropping on what was had become a tense conversation at the table. The three men were leaning forward.

“You must love her something powerful to go against your nature,” Dean said, his eyes fixed on Spike.

“You have no idea,” her fiancé said tersely. She smiled, he was so cute when he was worked up. “She’s the one. Me, her, the world’s not right when we’re not together.”

Sam shifted in his chair. “She doesn’t mind your, uh, special needs?”

“My mate,” Spike growled. “Has no problem with my diet or anything else. You have no idea. None. You’re babies, barely out of your nappies. Both of us have been in and out of the gates of death more than once. That’s love like you can’t imagine. Come back when you’ve died a couple times and we’ll talk.”

Buffy shivered. The temperature in the restaurant had seemed to drop a couple of degrees. Sam and Dean were looking oddly at each other and Spike’s eyes had landed on her.

She made her way back to the table. “I think it’s time to go,” she said quietly.

Spike’s nose twitched and a grin split his face. Some things you just couldn’t hide from a vampire. He jumped to his feet and dropped more than enough money on the table to pay for everyone’s dinner.

“Well blokes, it was nice meeting you. Take care, adieu, all that rot.” Spike put an arm around her waist.

“Bye Sam, Bye Dean,” Buffy said with a smile. “Thanks for the help with the Scarecrow. If you’re in LA on Christmas we’d love to have you at the wedding.” Buffy pulled a spare invitation out of her purse and handed it to Dean.

“Uh, thanks. We’ll keep it in mind.” Dean carefully laid the card on the table.

Sam cleared his throat. “If you’re looking for a place to stay there’s an old fashioned motel down the road about a mile. Each room is a separate cabin. It’s pretty cool.”

“Oh, sweet! Thanks!” Buffy giggled as Spike’s finger’s dug into her hip. Her vampire was more than ready to go.

Sam waved once as Spike nearly dragged her out of the restaurant. Dean was working on her leftovers.

When Spike and she reached the mustang, parked in the spot furthest from the door, of course, Spike pinned it up against it and kissed her hungrily.

“Don’t you smell like a nummy candy,” he rumbled.

Buffy moaned as he pushed himself against her. “Trick or treat,” she whispered in his ear before nipping the lobe.

He kissed her lips again, slowly sweeping his tongue around her mouth and making her melt. “Treat,” he said against her lips. “Most definitely: treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you to Gort for keeping me going!


End file.
